


stay

by tinyvessels (sundazed)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundazed/pseuds/tinyvessels
Summary: “I should go,” Seokmin whispers. His body says otherwise—arms tightening around Jeonghan and mouth humming satisfyingly.Jeonghan, equally stubborn, cages Seokmin in. "You should."
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	stay

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about [this DK selca](https://twitter.com/SVT_Fancafe/status/1361331969494159364?s=20) because he's Too Cute, and then we were forcefully informed by Jeonghan that it's _his_ shirt and I just kind of lost it. So here's all of those warm feelings translated into fic form. c:
> 
> Happy 218 day, I hope you enjoy!! <3

“Hyung, you’re not watching with us?”

Soonyoung, one foot already in his own room, shakes his head. “Too tired. Don’t wake me up for breakfast.”

Seokmin doesn’t insist. As they are in the thick of comeback preparations again, they had to drag Soonyoung, whose roaring spirit insisted that the choreography still lacked _something_ despite the hours he’d already spent working on it with Youngjun hyung, out of the practice room tonight. 

Jihoon and Vernon have already retreated to their rooms, both claiming to have drained their social battery for the day. So, it’s just them. 

Jeonghan tells Soonyoung goodnight as Seokmin, hugging the largest bag of popcorn he could find in the convenience store, hip checks the door and pads into Jeonghan’s room like it’s his own. 

“10 Things I Hate About You?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin grunts as he adjusts the pillow supporting his back in search of a more comfortable position. “Mingyu suggested it. He says it’s really good.”

“Did he cry?”

This earns him a laugh from Seokmin, who shakes his head and places the bag of popcorn on his lap. “No, it’s not sad like The Notebook, you crybaby.”

Jeonghan barely stops himself from scoffing. As if Seokmin didn’t match his low sobs when Noah slipped into Allie’s room and she remembered him again. Seokmin’s eyes were redder than the envelopes Jeonghan gave to his nephews and nieces over New Year’s.

“If you’re a bird,” Jeonghan pouts.

Seokmin catches his cue and finishes with his bottom lip jutted out as well, “I’m a bird.” 

They laugh as the opening music plays on each bud of their shared pair of AirPods. Usually, they’d have the projector and speakers set up, but tonight they settle with this, no plans on watching more than one movie as exhaustion from practice already threatens to sink completely into their bones. 

Jeonghan’s laptop, flanked by their respective cans of beer, rests on the foldable lazy table, one of Seokmin’s internet finds (they got it on a buy one, get one promo), with their legs tucked beneath Jeonghan’s covers. Inside Jeonghan’s chest, there is a tranquil ocean of contentment.

Their cruel schedule leading up to an album release is always unforgiving; Jeonghan finds himself reaching for pain relief patches and melatonin more often, a desperate attempt to appease his sore muscles and incessantly whirring mind. 

But every now and again, the universe made up for it in increments. Because every now and again, there’s this. This, with Seokmin. 

By the time the movie ends, Seokmin’s drool has effectively soaked Jeonghan’s pillow. A hushed string of giggles escapes Jeonghan’s lips as he surveys Seokmin’s state: unruly hair refusing to be tamed by Jeonghan’s fingers, mouth slightly hanging open, leg wrapped proprietorially around Jeonghan’s bolster. 

Jeonghan decides to wash up first, carefully extracts himself from underneath the duvet so as not to disrupt Seokmin’s peaceful slumber. He soundlessly stows his laptop and the table underneath the bed, as opposed to beside it—a terrible mistake a disgruntled Seokmin made once, not too long ago, as Jeonghan ended up stubbing his toe and almost stepping on it when he went to the restroom in the middle of the night. 

When Jeonghan returns, Seokmin has shifted slightly, traces and lines of sleep evident on his pinkish cheek like dried up riverbeds. Fondness takes root in Jeonghan heart—grows outwards and extends to his fingertips in a matter of seconds. 

“Seokmin,” Jeonghan guiltily pats Seokmin’s shoulder, “hey, hyung’s _really_ sorry for waking you up, but you need to change out of that shirt. You spilled beer on it, remember?”

Seokmin hums briefly, but his limbs remain lifeless. Jeonghan thinks about leaving him be, but a few beats later, he’s standing up and stretching his arms over his head, shirt riding up to reveal the abs he’d been working on with Wonwoo at the gym. 

Amused, Jeonghan tilts his head to the side and watches as Seokmin opens his arms wide, eyes fluttering open and close like fireflies flickering in the dark. Chuckling, Jeonghan shakes his head as he steps right into it. “Cute. You are mighty cute, sleepyhead.” 

He feels Seokmin’s laugh before he hears it, ribcage vibrating against his, as if the amusement is keen on escaping through his skin and seeping into Jeonghan’s chest. 

“I should go,” Seokmin whispers into the junction of Jeonghan’s neck and shoulder. His body says otherwise—arms tightening around Jeonghan and mouth humming satisfyingly.

Jeonghan, equally stubborn, cages Seokmin in. "You should."

They stand there, both unwilling to let go. 

Like this, with everything muted and still, Jeonghan feels moored. Home is a place, but home is also here. Here, in the quiet moments they share, stripped of the polished veil they wear in front of cameras. 

But despite the steady support that Seokmin’s body offers, Jeonghan feels himself slowly surrendering to the protests of his tired body. The digital clock on his bedside table reads 2:50AM. Relative to their usual sleep schedule, it’s still early, but the fact doesn’t stop Jeonghan’s eyelids from shutting close.

Jeonghan always thought that as they became a group with more experience under their belt, each promotional cycle would become easier to navigate. Though there were aspects that became less demanding, he finds the rush of each era becoming more tedious and nebulous, and the in-betweens—spontaneous group dinners, all thirteen of them packed in a restaurant Junhui had found, summer nights that turn into mornings with bottles of beer and soju scattered in the living room, the brief trips back home, his stolen moments of solitude—more vivid. Something more solid to latch onto. 

“ _You’re just too good to be true._ ” Seokmin’s voice, suddenly free of grogginess, sweetly pulls him out of his reverie, Seokmin’s hot breath making the tiny hairs on Jeonghan’s neck defy gravity. Letting his hands linger on Jeonghan’s waist, Seokmin pulls back, just a few tender inches. " _Can’t take my eyes off of you._ ” Then he embraces Jeonghan again, unyielding, " _You’d be like heaven to touch. I just want to hold you so much._ ” 

They do no more than swinging left and right, forwards and back, as Patrick’s frenetic performance in the movie earlier proves difficult even for two seasoned yet bone-tired performers. Jeonghan drinks it all in, revels in the comfort Seokmin’s voice offers, hums along to the melody of their heartbeats. 

At an interview earlier today, Seokmin’s hand shot up in an instant to pick Jeonghan when asked which member takes care of them the most. And though Jeonghan could only smile curtly and play with the camera at the time, keeping his cards close, it pains him how Seokmin doesn’t realize how much Jeonghan leans on him, too.

It will never be lost on Jeonghan how, when he had offhandedly complained about finding dried up blood in his nose in the mornings, Seokmin gifted him a humidifier the very next day. 

How, it’s Seokmin who readily offers Jeonghan his sweater when the outdoor shoot runs longer than expected and the chilly November air has made itself home in Seoul. 

Seokmin who, despite his own demons that he has to wrangle with, catches the shift in Jeonghan’s mood and attempts to steer him away from marinating in his intrusive thoughts.

Some days, when it takes every ounce of his energy to hide his personal sadness and smile for the anticipating fans, it’s Seokmin who nudges him and smiles at him reassuringly. A delicate reminder to try to not only survive, but to enjoy this season of their lives. 

Jeonghan would discreetly squeeze his hand in appreciation despite knowing how inadequate it felt for how much he wanted to give, but Seokmin never asked for anything more of him. 

They’re giggling by the end of Seokmin’s performance. It’s Seokmin who unlatches first, though not without a sloppy wet kiss on Jeonghan’s lips. He yawns as he sleepily walks to Jeonghan’s dresser and mindlessly picks up the first shirt he sees. 

Back when they were still trainees and Seokmin had forgotten to bring his own shirt to the practice room, Jeonghan, for the very first time, had lent him an oversized shirt, which Seokmin bashfully accepted and promptly returned two days after, washed and folded neatly. 

Now the motion has become so ingrained in Seokmin that he doesn’t even think to ask permission; he just strips himself of his own shirt, wears the one he’d just taken, and slumps back beside Jeonghan on the bed.

Contrary to their criminally small beds in the old dorms, Jeonghan’s current bed can comfortably fit three people, proven by the nights Soonyoung had also joined their movie marathons.

But Seokmin sinks close beside Jeonghan. 

All that territory to claim, yet Seokmin chooses to stay close. Close enough for Jeonghan to accept the warmth and agree to Seokmin’s unspoken question, _Can I sleep here tonight?_

 _Of course you can,_ Jeonghan wordlessly answers by resting his hand on Seokmin’s hip, index finger tracing circles on the sliver of exposed skin.

In the morning, they’ll probably order from that Chinese restaurant whose friendly owner has memorized Jeonghan’s voice and their dorm address. With bowls of _jjajangmyeon_ and their shared platter of _tangsuyuk_ between them, Jeonghan will tease Seokmin about all the shirts he’d taken but never returned.

Seokmin will laugh, say that he’ll give it back soon, then good-naturedly chide Jeonghan for his impatience. Jeonghan won’t believe him, because it’s what Seokmin always says. But Seokmin will laugh again, rebuttal forever stuck in his throat, and Jeonghan won’t press on, because by then, Jihoon or Vernon would’ve probably been woken up by the raucous in the kitchen. 

Here and now, Seokmin stirs beneath Jeonghan’s touch and grumbles something that Jeonghan doesn’t quite catch.

Jeonghan pats Seokmin’s hip once, gently. “Hmmm?”

Seokmin’s eyes remain close as his voice comes out hushed. “The light, hyung.”

“You were the last one up, dummy.” Jeonghan whispers back and chuckles when the corners of Seokmin’s lips tug up into a smile. 

In a few years, Jeonghan would probably have to unlearn how to reach for that smile instead of an umbrella on a drizzly day. Now, Jeonghan tucks it, safe, within the fences of his heart. 

“S’rry.” 

Jeonghan rises from the bed with a feigned annoyed sigh and turns the lamp off. He hits his shin on the edge of the bed and immediately topples. He rubs the spot where it stings, internally curses himself for it.

Seokmin, who rolled off to the other side to make space, titters and immediately snuggles close as soon as Jeonghan’s back hits the mattress. Their legs are tangled in no time, with Seokmin’s arm draped over Jeonghan’s stomach, territorial. 

“Better?” 

Seokmin finds Jeonghan’s lips in the dark and kisses him slowly, the perfect antidote to the sting. “Better.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for dropping by <3 kudos and comments are highly appreciated! 
> 
> I’m on [twitter!](http://twitter.com/mrgoldensuh)


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